


caesura

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Manga Spoilers, sibling feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 14:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: In which Miya Atsumu runs his mouth off again, and Osamu doesn't say anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for HQ manga 247, insofar as the fact of Miya Osamu's existence. A little something to work out my sibling feels :')

 

“Hey, Osamu. Are you awake?”

The question comes out a ragged murmur, soft enough that Osamu won’t hear if he is sleeping, although Atsumu knows the answer anyway. From the bed on the other side of the room, Osamu's faint inhale is shallow. Their backs are to each other.

Osamu keeps his silence, so Atsumu tosses and turns, blinks open one eyelid, then another, to stare at the ceiling. A luminous sea of glow-in-the-dark stars flickers down at him. When they were little, he had spent an entire Sunday afternoon on determined tiptoes, a sticker sheet in hand; Osamu had watched him for a while and then gone to fetch another chair to stand on. He had not said anything then, either.

“Don’t tell _anyone_ I said this,” Atsumu starts, “but I’m sorry.”

His keen-eyed gaze trails constellations of their own making. They do not have names, or shapes that any astronomy book knows. This sky is theirs alone.

“Osamu?”

Atsumu’s throat is dry. He keeps talking, because not talking would be worse.

“You know, I can _barely_ remember what we were fighting about. Can you?”

Osamu mumbles something into his blanket, and Atsumu smirks.

“Yeah, yeah, my fault. Whatever.”

Outside, the night yawns. The wind is full of whispers. They are quiet together, for a while.

Atsumu raises his right hand, flexes those sensitive fingers of his and folds them delicately inward. _How pretty_ , he thinks, this blossoming stillness that wraps around them; _how fragile_ , and so, of course, he’s going to break it, because Osamu would expect no less of him. The words will sting honey-sweet in the back of his mouth if he does not let them out.

“I wasn’t _wrong_ , though. It’s true what I said to the reporter, isn’t it? If anyone takes me down, you’ll be there.”

Osamu rolls over at last, and opens his eyes. Atsumu turns to face him. The stubborn tilt to his chin is a mirror of Atsumu’s own, a subtle grit they’ve grown to wear differently. It’s brighter, more brash on Atsumu; Osamu likes it better that way.

“Fine, _fine_ ,” Atsumu relents. He flings his arm outward, lets it dangle off the edge of his bed. “It’s not like _all_ you do is pick up my slack. I know you’ve got your own thing. And it’s not like I’d let some _Tokyo scrub_ take me down, anyway. Don’t be mad.”

Osamu’s sigh fades into the dark.

Atsumu turns his palm upward. A moment passes, and then Osamu reaches out, meets him halfway with a low five. It’s gentle, as it always is. It speaks louder than all of Atsumu’s words, as it always does.

Their hands part. Atsumu’s stays where it is. He hears the rustling of sheets as Osamu hugs his pillow closer, pulls up the covers so he is cocooned. It is a pattern Atsumu knows well. Osamu, hogging the blankets, drifting off first; Atsumu, listening to the steady rise and fall of his breathing until it lulls his restlessness.

Tomorrow is coming for them. Atsumu, contrary to popular belief, can be patient when he wants to be. He is patient now, biding his time, just like Osamu all these years.

“We’re gonna have _so_ much fun at Nationals,” he declares out loud, smiling to himself, because he simply _has_ to get the last word in.

Osamu does not answer. This time, Atsumu knows, he has fallen asleep.

He looks up again at that sky of theirs.

The ceiling had seemed vast back then, endless, when Atsumu tried to cover every corner in borrowed light. It was Osamu who had stayed his hand. Told him: it was okay to leave gaps in between, so that the stars had space to shine, and the shadows had somewhere they would fit in.


End file.
